


Remus and the F.L.P.

by byebyebluejay



Series: Mischief Managed: Marauding Stories [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Hogwarts, M/M, Marauders Friendship, Marauders' Era, Pre-Slash, light language and boyish attitude, supportive friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 14:36:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14191152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byebyebluejay/pseuds/byebyebluejay
Summary: Remus knew the jig would be up eventually, but he really hoped it wouldn't be up quite so early as the winter of his second year. Who would want to be friends with a werewolf? (I wonder, I wonder...)





	Remus and the F.L.P.

Maybe it was just his imagination, but Remus was almost certain his friends were intentionally drawing away from him. That Sirius and James would spend time on their own, to roughhouse or run across the grounds shooting jinxes at each other, wasn't surprising or new. And sometimes Peter and James went off alone, since Peter was the only one who could tolerate James mooning over and preening himself for Lily for more than a few minutes without taking the piss out of him. Remus was usually left with either Peter or Sirius to spend time with, though, and had never felt quite so excluded as he had since the winter holiday.

Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that Sirius had spent Christmas with the Potters, and Peter had visited on New Year's Eve, while Remus was spending the holiday with his parents and great aunt in Wales. The other three had said that all they did was eat animal crackers, drink butterbeer, and roast marshmallows in the Potter's fireplace, but maybe they were lying to him. Maybe they had realized that night that they had more fun without him. It was a horrible thought, but it was preferable to the other possibility: that they had finally figured out his secret.

Remus had managed to pull through first year without arousing any suspicion, but he hadn't really gotten close with James, Peter and Sirius until after Thanksgiving, and back then they had been so much easier to lie to. They'd swallowed his stories without any question. James never shot him any knowing smirks, as though he thought Remus was getting up to something exciting during his monthly absences, and Sirius had never expressed more than the usual amount of concern when he said he was sick or that he had to go home to see his parents. All that had changed this year, though. He was sure that James knew he was lying about what he was doing every month, and he knew that Sirius thought it was something to be worried about, and if he couldn't deceive them anymore, then Peter was sure to something was wrong too. How long would it take them to make the connection between the timing of his absences and his scars? They were probably already putting their heads together, comparing notes on him, and drawing in on the truth. Remus stared across the empty dormitory, at the messy sprawl of Sirius's spare robes over the foot of his bed; the quidditch gloves on James's bedside table, leather gleaming, freshly oiled; Peter's set of gobstones strewn across his sheets, and he wondered how much longer he was going to be able to call this place home.

Even if Dumbledore somehow convinced the three of them not to talk, the atmosphere of the dorm would be completely different. Remus didn't relish the thought of spending the next five years of his life surrounded by former friends. The best he could hope for was a façade of friendship: eating lunches together, partnering up with Peter or Sirius during herbology, studying together for exams. If Sirius wasn't already friends with Marlene McKinnon, he might have been able to make friends with the girls instead, but Sirius would never bite his tongue if it meant tossing Marlene into harm's way. Maybe some of the Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw second years would be willing to befriend him. Too bad he didn't have James's social boldness, or Sirius's aura of nonchalance.

The clatter of shoes on the stone steps leading up to the dorm jarred Remus out of his reverie, and he jolted upright, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He had been hoping to look at ease and untroubled, but as James loped into the room, levitating a massive stack of books bound together with his belt, he took one look at Remus and snorted with laughter. Sirius and Peter were close behind him, Sirius's mouth curled in a sleek smile.

“What were you doing, Rem?” Sirius asked slyly, flouncing down onto the bed beside him, hair falling around his head in a dark halo, “Something you didn’t want us to see?”

“Having a wank?” James said, cutting straight to the implication of Sirius’s words. Peter giggled. Remus sighed. 

“No, not I wasn’t doing that. I wasn’t doing anything. I was just thinking. You startled me, that’s all. Were you three in the library?” Of all the things to be excluded from, somehow a study session hurt the most. Remus was the most bookish of the four of them. If they no longer trusted him even to help with astronomy charts or untangling names and dates for History of Magic, what would they come to him for? 

“Yeah. Did a bit of revising. Figured you didn’t need it,” James said, flicking his wand so the belt unfastened and the books fell into a jumble on his bed. One slid off onto the floor, and Remus leaned over to pick it up. It was heavy and fabric-bound, titled _Curricula of Self-Transfiguration 600-1900_. James slid it out of his hand and returned it to the stack, “Thanks, mate.” 

“Revising for what?” Remus asked, brow furrowed as he tried to read other faded titles in the mass of books. He caught a glimpse of _Uagadou: Castle in the Clouds_ and _The Witch Who Wished She Was a Horse_ before Sirius grabbed the hem of his shirt and gave him a firm yank, distracting him for a split second as James slid in front of him and shed his robe, dropping it on top of the pile. 

“Transfiguration,” James said as he seated himself on his own bed. Transfiguration. As though they had even started discussing self-transfiguration in class. And what Uagadou had to do with anything, Remus wasn’t sure. But Sirius had sat up and thrown his arms around his shoulders, and the warmth of his cheek against Remus’s neck was making it hard to think about this web of deception.

“Coming to dinner with us, Rem?” Sirius asked, giving Remus a little squeeze. He was hungry. He hadn’t eaten since lunch and it wasn’t a habit of him to skip meals, but James had discovered the hidden door to the kitchens a few months ago, and the idea of sitting under observation for nearly an hour while his friends decided if he was worth sticking around with seemed about as appealing as walking into the Forbidden Forest completely starkers. 

“No,” Remus said, reluctantly shrugging off Sirius and withdrawing back towards the headboard, pulling his knees up to his chest, “I’m not hungry. And I have some revising to do for transfiguration.” He couldn’t help but add in that bitter little lie. It wasn’t fair of him to expect Peter, James and Sirius to spend time with him, especially considering what he was. They had every right to spend time together without him anyway. But it still hurt. The other three exchanged glances as Sirius’s smile faltered. Sirius leaned in towards him and reached out a hand, like he was going to touch Remus’s knee, but then he dropped it back to his side. Frowning, he slid off Remus’s bed and tucked his hands into his pockets, but affected his best cheerful voice. 

“You sure? I hear the house elves are making Yorkshire puddings and roast beef tonight.”

“Black forest cake!” James chimed in, “Mash and veg and poached apples!” 

“Fresh bread too,” Peter said eagerly, “I was in the kitchens about an hour ago. It smelled amazing.” Remus’s stomach growled conspicuously, but he turned away from his friends, reaching blindly for his nearest book, which turned out to be a rather worn copy of _The Phantom Tollbooth_ and not a textbook at all. 

“No,” He said, “I think I’m getting sick again. I’m not hungry.” And that was enough. Sirius glanced at James, who shrugged minutely, before clearing his throat. 

“Well, hope you feel better then, Rem.”

“Yeah. We’ll bring you some toast or something, mate,” James said, clapping Peter on the shoulder as he turned back towards the door, “Get some rest.”

“Feel better!” Peter called behind him, and then they were gone, leaving Remus feeling just as lost and lonely as he had before the interruption. 

Remus didn’t bother pretending to study for transfiguration and didn’t sneak down to the kitchen to eat as he had originally planned. Drained and ill-at-ease he just scarfed down a chocolate bar, brushed his teeth and—before his stomach got wise to the fact that he hadn’t eaten a full meal—went to sleep. He had dreams of being discovered mid-transformation in the Shack, of burying his teeth into Peter’s throat, of going to class wearing a muzzle like a feral dog… Remus woke up with a start and found himself cold and sweaty, looking up into James’s hazel eyes, dark pupils reflecting the roaring fire in the grate. “Merlin!” He hissed, pressing a hand to his heart, “What are you doing looming over me like that?”

“He’s up,” James said, and Peter and Sirius, both pajama-clad like James, pressed closer. The lingering nightmare sensation that he was some awful pathogen on a slide being examined washed over him, and Remus closed his eyes. “Err, Remus,” James said, giving his shoulder a gentle prod, “Don’t fall back asleep on me.” As though there were any danger of that. Still, he opened his eyes again. 

“What is it?” Remus asked, his heart still refusing to quiet. 

“We know you’re a werewolf.” James said it so simply, so easily, as though he didn’t realize that with those words, he was bringing the world down around Remus’s head. His pulse was banging a funeral march in his ears and behind his eyes, so loud, so hard, shaking through his body. Nausea roiled up in his stomach. He tried to sit up, but his muscles felt to weak to follow directions. “Merlin, Rem. Are you alright? Maybe he really is sick. You need the loo?” Remus’s vision was going gray at the edges, closing in on the three faces looming above him. His friends, but not his friends anymore. 

“I told you we shouldn’t tell him like this,” Sirius said, elbowing James out of the way so he could sit down at the edge of the bed, “You have the bedside manner of a troll. Remus—Rem. You’re okay. It’s okay. Your secret’s safe with us. So you turn into an angry, furry animal once a month. So what? We have to deal with James every morning.” Peter giggled nervously, and James, eyes fixed on Remus, was too distracted to retaliate. 

“I—what?” Remus’s head was swimming as he tried to push himself up, unable to reconcile the words Sirius was saying with the situation, and the fact that he _felt_ caged. 

“You’re okay, Remus. Breathe. Sorry we startled you while you were sleeping. James is a bloody idiot.” Remus tried to listen. He took a breath against the tight feeling in his chest, then another, then another. “Deeper, slower. You’re safe with us, Remus.” Sirius said, voice dropping softer and deeper, “Be useful and get some water or something, James? You gave him a panic attack.”

“How was I supposed to know it would be that startling?” James asked, worry breaking into indignation, “Accio cup.” James’s Chudley Cannons cup ( _‘Let's all just keep our fingers crossed and hope for the best’_ ) flew neatly across the room and into his hand. Peter broke into sudden applause, and the horror was finally starting to dim as Sirius rolled his eyes. 

“Wow, James! What was that spell?”

“Show off,” Sirius said, taking the cup from James once he’d conjured a stream of water to fill it, and offering it out to Remus, who took it with shaking hands. He took a few gulps and felt some of the tightness in his chest ease a little more. 

“Got the job done though, didn’t it?” James said, not looking in the least displeased, “It was a summoning charm, Pete. Saw some fourth years practicing them and learned it over the holiday… You okay now, Remus?”

“Yes,” Remus said. His heart was still beating too loudly, but at least he could think, now, and the sharp edge of horror had been dulled by the fact that all three of them were still standing around his bed and talking like they always had. “You—you know?”

“We figured it out,” James said brightly, “We started to get suspicious because you were sick so much. Sirius noticed it was once a month after Peter complained about you missing Gobstone Club. To be honest, I just thought you were blowing him off because Gobstones is a bit boring—sorry, Peter—but Sirius thought there was something out. So, then we worked back. Remembered when you said you were sick or at home based on what notes and tests and quidditch games you missed, and it was exactly once a month, pretty much. Every twenty-nine or thirty days. Then there were the scars, and we pulled out a lunar calendar and—well. It all fits.” 

“We’re not afraid of you, Remus. We’re your friends,” Peter said, leaning in around Sirius, and James, grinning, wrapped an arm around his shoulders. 

“Yeah. We’re sworn to secrecy. We won’t breathe a word about your ‘furry little problem’ to anyone outside the four of us.”

“And we thought up a way to help you,” Sirius said, “That’s why we were in the library together. It still needs more research though, and we don’t want to spoil the surprise. It’s going to be loads of fun.” Remus took a few more breaths: gathering himself, calming down, and took another sip of water before answering.

“I didn’t know anyone would still want to be my friend if they figured out what I am. I was terrified that people would find out while I was here, and that everyone in the school would be trying to hunt me down or get me expelled. We’ve been friends for a year and a half now, but I still had no idea that… I never thought anyone…” He felt the urge to cry, but he fought it back, not wanting to make himself any more vulnerable than he already was. Sirius plucked the glass of water out of his hands and wrapped him up in a hug. And Remus hugged him back, helpless to do anything else, just taking in the comfort of the secure embrace, and the warm smell of Sirius’s hair. 

“S’alright, Remus,” Sirius said, and James grinned.

“You’re really going to love what we have planned.”

“You can’t surprise me. I have to know what’s going to happen when it comes to my… what did you call it?”

“Furry little problem,” James supplied. 

“Yes, that. Whatever idea it is you have, you must promise to tell me before you do it. So I can make sure it’s safe.”

“I promise,” Peter said, “It will take ages and ages anyway.”

“Probably another year,” James agreed, “Don’t hold start holding your breath yet.”

“We’ll let you know when we’ve figured out how to do it,” Sirius said, giving Remus a final squeeze before drawing back, combing out his dark hair with his fingers, “How are you feeling?”

“Much better. Thank you.” Still dazed and shaky, but also like he was sucking on a Fizzing Whizzbee and warm from head to toe. 

“I really didn’t mean to startle you,” James said as Sirius climbed off the bed again and stretched, legs and back and arms all making a lean arrow towards the ceiling. 

“It’s okay, James. I don’t think I could hold it against you,” Remus said a second later, once Sirius had settled firmly back on his feet. Remus thought he saw James’s eyes flick sideways once towards Sirius, but in the firelight and distracted as he was, he couldn’t be sure. As soon as Remus was paying attention, James was grinning.

“Alright, brilliant! I’ll owe you a Butterbeer, anyway.”

Remus laughed, sinking back against his pillows with a long breath. “Thank you again. All of you. You’re all such good friends. But you did wake me up in the middle of the night. Maybe we could finish this talk tomorrow?” 

Sirius let out a bark of laughter and punched James playfully in the shoulder. “I told you that too, Jamie!” 

James put on a mock scowl, rubbing his bicep as he turned, retreating to his bed, “Yeah, yeah. Alright. Fine. You were right. Happy, Black?”

“Very.”

“G’night, Remus,” Peter said from across the room as he wriggled into his bed.

“Night everybody,” James was pulling off his shirt before the curtains of his bed were even fully closed. 

“Sweet dreams,” Sirius said. And while Remus rarely had good dreams, for the rest of the night it was all snowball fights and Black Forest cake.


End file.
